


Every Person Is Jealousy

by waroftheposes



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Post Season 2, Some Fluff, Tumblr Prompt, actually like 3 tumblr prompts mashed together, an unnecessary amount of tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-15 00:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waroftheposes/pseuds/waroftheposes
Summary: When Ander decided to take Omar's lunch to his school, he didn't expect to meet five of Omar's friends who had no idea who he was. He especially didn't except to become anxious over the fact that they knew Omar was gay, but had never been told that Omar had a boyfriend.Ander had definitely not thought that on his way back from Omar's school, he'd start questioning his whole relationship and Omar's feelings for him.





	Every Person Is Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _ Dear Jealousy_ by MIKA
> 
> \--  
I mixed three prompts together while writing this fic.
> 
> Tumblr prompt #1: if there's a really cliche trope that I like, it's jealousy and i just want see ander being jealous so much. and since after s2 ander doesn't really have anyone except Omar he becomes really clingy and even a bit paranoid at times. and esp since he thinks he doesn't deserve omar he feels threatened very easily. and lbr omar works at a bar and he looks like that a lot of people probably hit on him. can you write smt about ander feeling insecure and getting jealous but it's all cute in the end??
> 
> Tumblr prompt #2: i dont know if you wanna write about this and its okay if you dont! but i always think a lot about omars life that we dont know about and how ander would fit in it. like ander going to omars school (to like pick him up or something) and seeing his friends, his school, and all that idk i think A LOT about that
> 
> Tumblr prompt #3: Can you write a of ander being jealous? Bc S2 had too much of Omar pining over Ander, and I need the roles to be reversed for once

On a weekday morning in February, Ander wakes up shivering, his nose is plugged and his throat is scratchy. He turns in bed, flinging his arms over Omar’s frame and pressing his front against Omar’s back for some warmth. Lately, Ander doesn’t want to get out of bed in the morning, but today it’s a different case. It’s not that he doesn’t want to get out of bed, it’s that he can’t.

When his mom comes to get him for breakfast, Omar’s already awake, sitting up in bed and running his hand through Ander’s hair, whispering soothing words Ander is barely able to register. The motion of Omar’s fingers scratching against Ander’s scalp is calming. It distracts Ander from the fact that he’s cold and his body feels like garbage. So when Omar’s hand stops in Ander’s hair as the door opens, Ander raises his head in annoyance.

His mother is standing at the entrance to his room, watching the bed with troubled eyes.

“Sick?” She directs the question to Omar, as if she’s already decided that Ander’s an invalid and can’t speak for himself.

“Yes.” Ander’s voice is barely there, scratchy, as if the sound is catching on the sick spots in his throat. He drops his head on the pillow.

“How sick?”

“Feels a bit hot,” Omar answers. “I think there’s a fever. Maybe a cold?”

Ander’s mother sighs, “Do you want to go to school?” The question is directed at Omar who answers with a hesitant ‘yes.’ “Can Ander stay home by himself?”

Yes, Ander can, and he makes that clear, though his voice is barely audible. He’s not a child, he knows what to do when left alone at home.

He’ll be fine, he assures his mother, who is already thinking about staying home to watch over him. She reluctantly agrees to go to work. 

That first day of his cold, Ander spends completely in bed, napping and feeling the most miserable.

The second day is worse, but by the time Omar comes home Ander’s head has stopped hurting, his body is no longer beset by chills, and he can breathe through one nostril. He’s still feeling pretty much like garbage, but he drags himself out of bed and sits on the couch to watch Omar do some homework. Ander has homework too, but he’s decided to worry about that when he gets back to school.

On the third day he’s feeling a bit better, but his mom refuses to even entertain the idea that he can go to school. She decides for him that he’s going to stay home. “I don’t want you infecting other kids, you’ve already infected Omar probaby,” she says. She’s already set out coffee and breakfast when Ander gets out of bed and follows Omar downstairs to the kitchen.

Omar just shrugs, seemingly not caring about getting Ander’s nasty cold. He eats quickly, kisses Ander’s cheek while Ander’s mom is turned away, and leaves for school with a wave.

Ander’s mother only notices that he’s left when she goes to pack her own lunch and notices Omar’s next to her. She gasps, hand coming up to tap her forehead gently. Ander can hear her whisper ‘damn.’

“Mom?”

“Omar left his lunch. I made it last night, I don’t want him wasting money buying lunch.” She’s shaking her head as she’s saying it, annoyed, probably with herself for letting Omar leave without giving him the lunch bag.

“I can take it,” Ander says.

His mom is shaking her head. “No, you’re sick.’

“No, mom. I’m better. It’ll be fine, I’ll just take it to him during his lunch hour.” He insists on it until his mother reluctantly agrees to let him bike to Omar’s school with the food.

Ander counts the hours until it’s time for him to take the food to Omar. He’s going stir crazy, alone in the house all day, and seeing Omar for any period of time during the school day is a gift within itself.

He bikes to Omar’s school, finds the lunch room quickly and scans it for Omar’s face. He’s expecting to find Omar alone, since Samuel is his best friend and Samuel goes to another school. What Ander is not expecting to find is Omar surrounded by people, girls and boys--several of the latter who are reasonably attractive.

Ander doesn’t like it.

He stands by the lunch room entrance, a frown forming slowly on his brows. It’s not that Ander expected Omar to be friendless. Omar is a social person who can engage most people in conversation. Ander didn’t expect him to be friendless, but this…

This… these random people laughing and joking with him, that random attractive boy putting his arm around Omar’s shoulder. Watching it makes something ugly curl in Ander’s stomach, a hurt for which he has no name. How come Omar has these friends but never tells Ander about them? Why hasn’t he told Ander about their existence at all? Would he even be happy to see Ander here, at his school, invading a space he has kept if not a secret, then seperate from Ander for months?

Ander almost turns and leaves, afraid of the frown he’s convinced himself Omar will give him when he makes his presence known. Some small rational part of him stops him. These thoughts running through his head are ridiculous, stupid. This ugly feeling is unfounded. Of course Omar will be happy to see him and if not him, at least the lunch.

Ander takes a step forward, then another, gaining confidence as he gets closer to Omar and his group of friends.

“Hey,” he says when he’s reached them. Five sets of eyes look up at him then, but the only one Ander cares about is Omar’s, who’s surprise turns to confusion momentarily, and he half rises before saying anything.

“What are you doing out of bed?” He stands completely then, and Ander definitely does not watch as the strange boy’s arm drops away from Omar’s shoulder. “Ander, did you bike here?”

Ander nods, watching Omar round the table to stand beside him. “You forgot your lunch.” He holds up the lunch bag as explanation.

“So you brought it for me,” Omar says. “Here?”

“Yeah. My mom was pretty upset that you left it,” Ander continues. “And I was going stir crazy, so…” Ander trails off, watching Omar run a hand through his hair, his eyes closing. “Should I have not come?”

Omar shakes his head. “No, you shouldn’t have. What if you get worse?” He opens his eyes and takes a step closer to Ander. Out of habit, Ander almost checks their surrounding, afraid that someone might catch them being anything resembling romantic. But then he remembers that it doesn’t matter, because Omar doesn’t live with his parents anymore, and there’s not one reason why Ander can’t touch him in public.

Ander takes a step closer too, close enough that he can drop his head on Omar’s shoulder. He smiles as he feels Omar’s hand on his back. “I won’t get more sick, I’m basically recovered. It’s fine, it’ll be fine.”

He feels Omar chuckle more than he hears it. “Yeah, you’re acting like a very healthy person right now.”

Ander pulls away. “Thanks for bringing me food,” Ander says, trying and failing to imitate Omar’s voice. “I really appreciate it.”

“I do.” Omar still has a smile on his face. “But I’m still worried about you. It’s cold outside and you had a fever yesterday.”

“You are worse than my mother,” Ander counters.

Omar lifts his arm and rests his palm against Ander’s forehead. “I don’t know if I’m wrong to be worried,” he says, lips lifted up in a teasing smile. “You seem pretty hot to me.”

Before Ander has a chance to respond, one of the boys sitting on the table speaks up. “This is sickeningly cute or whatever,” he says gesturing at Omar and Ander. “But maybe you wanna introduce us to your friend, Omar?”

“And maybe get a room,” the guy who’s hand was on Omar’s shoulder says, his voice mocking.

“Oh,” Omar says seemingly surprised at their interjection. “I didn’t think… yeah ok,” he takes a step away from Ander. “Ander, these are some of my school friends.” He turns to the people sitting on the table, “This is Ander, my boyfriend.”

There’s a pause as people sitting on the table register what Omar has said. The girls look surprised but intrigued; their eyes travel up and down Ander’s body, in a way that Ander is familiar with, especially when he meets a stranger. The boys look less intrigued. The one who had his arms around Omar looks completely uninterested.

“You have _a boyfriend_?” One of the girls asks. “Since when?”

At the same time, the boy who spoke up first says, “You never mentioned a boyfriend…”

_Never mentioned a boyfriend._

Ander tries not to let that hurt him.

The boy who had his arms around Omar turns to the original speaker. “Because it’s not that important, maybe?”

He says it matter of factly, but the words hit Ander like a cold blast. A chill spreads through his body, starting from the nape of his neck, snaking down his spine.

_Not that important? _These people just met him, but this guy, this random guy thinks he knows Omar well enough to pronounce his relationship with Ander as _not that important. _

_Not… but this is one of the most important relationships Ander has in his life. _

They don’t know that, they don’t know Ander, don’t know how much Omar means to him. But they know Omar...

_Not that important..._

Maybe not to Omar. Maybe these people know something about Omar that Ander doesn’t. Maybe that’s why that boy feels like he can say such words.

Panic or sadness or _something_ must be showing on Ander’s face because as soon as Omar takes a look at him, he begins shaking his head. “What? No!” he directs his words towards the boy who’s by now thoroughly offended Ander. “That’s not it at all.”

The boy raises his eyebrows, challenging. “Then what?”

Omar sighs. Ander watches him. He didn’t think bringing Omar his lunch today would result in such a conversation.

“Maybe,” another girl speaks up. “He just didn’t want to tell _you._”

“Me?” The boy has a knowing smirk on his lips. “Why me?”

“Because you’re being a dick about my personal life,” Omar says. His voice is raised, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to deal with all of this,” he gestures toward the table, then turns to Ander. “Come.”

Omar takes Ander outside to a set of lunch tables that are empty at this time of the year. “Thanks for the lunch,” he says, holding Ander’s face in his hands, kissing his nose. “Go home.”

“I can stay,” Ander offers. “While you eat.”

Omar shakes his head. “No it’s cold out here, I don’t want your cold to get worse.”

“You’re out here though,” Ander argues.

“I’ll go back inside once you leave.”

_Back to those people. That horrible boy. _

Ander leaves reluctantly.

\--

Troubling thoughts dog Ander as he makes his way home from Omar’s school. Why didn’t Omar tell his school friends about having a boyfriend? They didn’t seem surprised that he was gay, had he told them about that already? If so, had he only kept Ander’s existence hidden?

_Why? Why? Why?_

Ander’s mind keeps going back to what one of the boys had said. _Maybe it’s not that important. _Was the horrible boy with his knowing smirk correct? Was Ander not an important enough part of Omar’s life to share with his friends? Was Omar thinking that they’d break up soon so there was no point in introducing Ander to his school friends? Was Omar planning on them breaking up, on breaking up with him?

_No._

What was Ander doing? He had to stop himself. This path led to nothing but misery for him. Hadn’t Omar replied to that boy rudely? Hadn’t he led Ander outside to keep him away from the hurtful things his friends were saying?

Or maybe he’d led Ander away because he didn’t want the friends to say something Ander didn’t know. Like maybe Omar had said something about being single, maybe he’d flirted with that boy who had his arms around him, maybe he’d allowed touches that conveyed singleness.

_No. No. No._

This is not what Omar is like. Omar has always been honest about his feelings, always, even when that honesty meant he’d hurt Ander’s feelings. He’s been by Ander’s side through the worst of his depressive episodes after Ander’s falling out with Guzman. He even stayed when Ander was drinking heavily, was pushing him away, was being a dick. He stayed despite of Ander’s behavior.

But he had planned to leave… He’d been saving money, he’d even started packing.

Omar had only stayed when he’d seen how pathetic Ander had become. He’d only stayed after Ander had cried.

What if he didn’t do it because he loved Ander? What if he did it out of some sense of obligation? Ander had been there for Omar after Omar’s family kicked him out. Ander’s mom had taken Omar in and had put him back in school. What if Omar’s feelings for Ander had cooled, but he felt like he had to stay and take care of Ander after all of that?

Had Omar said he loved Ander recently?

Ander can’t remember. He can’t remember the last time that Omar said _I love you_. He can’t remember what Omar had looked like when he told Ander he would stay. Were his eyes full of pity or love?

Ander is so afraid that it was pity.

He gets home in the kind of mood that he hasn’t been in for over a month, anxious, sad, wanting to scream. Ander throws himself on his bed and closes his eyes. His thoughts during the bike ride home only served to convince him that Omar’s feelings for him have all but dried up, that Omar was only staying with him out of some sort of heroic, self sacrificing obligation, and didn’t love him anymore.

His mind keeps replaying the encounter at the school; the boy with his arms around Omar, Omar’s friends, shocked that he had a boyfriend. The boy’s smirk. Their confusion that Omar had not mentioned having boyfriend.

The words,_“maybe it’s not important,” _are driving him crazy.

There’s a hurt in Ander’s throat, a poison lodged in there, not because of his cold, but because of his conviction that Omar no longer loves him. The corners of his eyes feel hot. He knows that the tears are waiting for permission, for him to blink or open his eyes so they can fall. But he doesn’t open his eyes. He buries his face into his pillow and, unable to escape his intrusive thoughts, wills himself to fall asleep.

He must have succeeded because awareness comes to him next when a gentle hand is placed on his shoulder, shaking him awake.

Ander moves, indicating that he has woken up.

“Afternoon,” he hears Omar say.

The first thing Ander sees as he blinks his eyes open is Omar, sitting on the edge of Ander’s bed, smiling down at him. Ander begins to smile in response. In his sleep addled mind, Ander doesn’t remember why he’d been so upset before he fell asleep. It’s good to see Omar, Ander hasn’t seen him since he took him his lunch.

It’s that train of thought that bring Ander’s joy crashing down. He remembers suddenly and clearly his trip to Omar’s school, the way everyone acted, their surprise at his existence, his own conclusion about what that surprise meant.

The smile disappears from Ander’s face.

“Grumpy?” Omar asks, his voice light, teasing.

Ander shakes his head.

“Then what is it?” Omar continues. “Is it your cold? Did you get more sick because of your bike ride?”

Ander opens his mouth. “No.”

“What is it then?”

Ander shrugs.

“Grumpy, then.” Omar raises his hand from Ander’s shoulder and places it on Ander’s face, letting his fingers slide down gently. He finds Ander’s chin with his thumb, raises it, and drops his head so that he can brush his lips softly against Ander’s.

Ander grabs the back of Omar’s head to keep him there, opening his mouth against Omar’s to deepen the kiss. He kisses Omar with a desperation he is almost ashamed of, but Omar kisses him back just as desperately, doesn’t pull away, not until Ander does.

When Ander does pull back--because today, both his nostrils are plugged and he needed to breathe--he leaves his hands in Omar’s hair, keeping him trapped so that Ander can look at him. Omar allows it for a few seconds before he shrugs out of Ander’s hold.

“My neck was starting to hurt,” he says at Ander’s protest.

Ander closes his eyes, turning his back to Omar as Omar sits up, not able to watch Omar get up or go away, not even to get changed. But Omar only moves so that he can make space in the bed and lie down next to Ander, putting his chest against Ander’s back and propping his chin on Ander’s shoulder.

Ander turns in Omar’s embrace, moves himself down so that his forehead touches Omar’s chest. With one hand, he grabs Omar’s shirt, trying to pull him closer, wanting to get as much contact with Omar as he can before the inevitable. He feels Omar’s hand lift off him for a second, and then settle, palm flat on Ander’s back. Ander almost smiles.

Almost. But the events of the day have made him melancholy, and although he’s desperate for attention from Omar, he can’t enjoy it. The sadness is weighing on him.

“How was the rest of your day?” Omar asks and Ander thinks maybe his voice doesn’t sound like the voice of someone who is planning to leave.

“It wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

Ander opens his eyes, moves his head so he can look up at Omar. “I fell asleep immediately after I got home.”

“Good. Sleep will help with the cold you’re refusing to acknowledge you still have.”

Ander closes his eyes. The sleep might heal his body, but it does nothing to alleviate his worries.

“How was your day?”

Ander can feel Omar shrugging. “Fine. Had to go back to the lunch room after you left, and my friends were being pretty obnoxious about you.”

_Why?_ Ander wants to ask. _Why were they being obnoxious? Is it because they expected you to be single?_

What he really wants to ask is if Omar _wants_ to be single, but he doesn’t. He just nods.

As they lay there, Ander feels Omar’s palm on his back, making soothing circles. He thinks it’s meant to be reassuring, and he wants to be reassured by it. But he can’t be. He wants to ask Omar why he hadn’t told his friends about them, why that one boy was being so snarky, but he’s afraid to, so he doesn’t.

Instead Ander lays there, silent, letting Omar hold him until his mom calls them down for dinner.

That night, as Omar sleeps peacefully next to him, Ander lays awake in bed, one arm resting on Omar’s neck. He can’t fall asleep. He’d tried all night to squash his insecurities, to let himself enjoy being with Omar, but in the end, he’d been unsuccessful. He tosses and turns, trying to forget the day’s events. No matter how hard he tries to force it out of his brain, however, the events of the day play in his mind over and over. He keeps seeing that boy with his arms around Omar, Omar’s friends shocked that he has a boyfriend, their wondering why they hadn’t heard about Ander before.

Ander feels like screaming.

And he understands that he should just talk to Omar about the things that are bothering him, but fear didn’t let him say anything earlier and won’t let him now, or tomorrow.

He barely sleeps.

\--

The next day Ander finds Samuel in the locker room after gym. He fell asleep stressed last night and woke up exhausted this morning. When he got to school and couldn’t concentrate on anything, he thought he should ask Samuel about Omar’s behavior. He thought that finding out what Omar has said about him to Samuel and how Omar has previously acted when he wanted to leave someone might help alleviate his fears.

“Hey.” Ander keeps his voice down as he approaches Samuel, feeling awkward talking about something like this at school. Before, when he’d asked Samuel about Omar, it had been either about external issues or his own stupidity. Now, his problem concerns Omar’s feelings about him and Ander is not even sure if he wants to know the truth. He definitely doesn’t want to air out his insecurities in front of half of his class. But there’s no other place to talk.

“Yeah?” Samuel turns midway to look at Ander.

“Can I… Can we talk?” Ander looks around nervously, there are people lingering in the locker room, but Ander is willing to wait until they’ve left. “Once everyone is gone?”

Samuel nods and they wait together as the remaining students get dressed and leave.

“What’s up?” Samuel asks once they are seemingly alone.

Ander pulls back his shoulders, trying to give himself enough courage to talk to Samuel. When he finally does start speaking, he avoids looking at Samuel’s face. “Has Omar ever talked to you… about me?”

“Yeah, all the time,” Samuel says slowly, after a small pause.

“Yeah… but,” Ander stops, biting the inside of his cheeks. “Like about whether he wants to be with me or be in a relationship or…” Ander looks up, trailing off.

Samuel’s eyes widen in realization. “Do you want to know if he wants to break up with you?”

Ander shrugs, dropping his head.

“Dude, what the fuck? Where is this coming from?”

Samuel’s surprise gives Ander enough motive to continue. “I just… ok. So yesterday he forgot his lunch, and I was still home sick so I took it for him. And when I got there, there was this _guy_ and he had his arms around Omar’s shoulder and he was kind of attractive… and then I found out that Omar hadn’t told any of his school friends about me, or that he had a boyfriend… They knew he was gay… but then that guy said I wasn’t important and--”

“Are you jealous?” Samuel cuts in, stopping Ander’s rambling. When Ander looks up at him, he looks concerned. “Is that what this is? Jealousy?”

Ander shakes his head hesitantly. “I don’t know. I was just… I hated seeing that guy with his arm around Omar, and I hated his stupid smirk when he said I didn’t matter, and _why didn’t Omar tell them about me?”_

Samuel is quiet for some time, thinking, then. “Have you considered that you’re thinking about this too much?”

There’s the sound of a locker closing, and both Ander and Samuel turn, surprised that there’s someone still in the locker room.

“Nah.” It’s Valerio, appearing suddenly and unexpectedly from behind a set of lockers, completely undressed. Ander wonders how long he’d been there, how much of the conversation he’s heard. He doesn’t like the idea of Valerio knowing anything about his relationship, doesn’t like to think that Valerio heard him in his most insecure moment.

“You’re having very appropriate thoughts about some dude plastering himself all over your boyfriend,” Valerio says, revealing that in fact, he had heard most, if not all of the conversation. He takes a seat on the bench in front of Ander and Samuel and continues, turning his attention to Samuel. “He’s not thinking about it too much,” Valerio says. “He’s thinking about it just enough. My advice? Ask your boyfriend specifically about that guy. Just be like, who’s that guy? See what he says. But listen,” Valerio stops talking and stands, putting one arm around Ander’s shoulder and bringing his head closer to Ander’s. “I know a little bit about jealousy, and take my advice when I tell you, _do not_ film this guy having sex with someone else in a locker room. Don’t do it. It _will _backfire.”

Ander is struck dumb by this display. He looks over at Samuel, who’s regarding Valerio with raised brows and an open mouth.

“Uh,” Ander says, finally. “You’re not dressed.” He shrugs out of Valerio’s arm. “And I wasn’t asking your advice, and most of my issues aren’t even about that guy... but I appreciate your weighing in I guess… about the thing with filming.”

“Glad I could help,” Vario says and walks back to his locker.

Ander and Samuel wait patiently, watching as Valerio gets dressed and leaves the locker room, before returning to their conversation.

“You think I’m thinking about it too much?”

Samuel nods, then in a low voice. “Jealousy does weird things to your head. I’d try to forget about it--all of it--if I were you. Omar’s never, _ever_ said anything about wanting to break up, or being with anyone other than you. I bet there’s some other reason he hasn’t told his school friends about you.”

Ander nods. “And… you don’t get a vibe from him… that he wants to break up?”

“Not at all.” Samuel shakes his head. “Frankly, I’m surprised that you do.”

“I…” Ander stops. It’s not that he gets that vibe from Omar either but he doesn’t trust his own instincts. He tells Samuel this. “Because you know, he didn’t want to date for like, the longest time, and he kept pushing me away and telling me we weren’t together,” Ander continues needing to look away from Samuel again. “And I just thought… what if--”

“Nothing,” Samuel cuts him off. “What if nothing. This situation is completely different from what was happening last year. You know why he didn’t want to date before. He’s all in now, man, for fuck’s sake, he’s living at your house and I see you opening your mouth and no, he’s not just with you because he’s living at your house. He almost moved out, remember?”

Ander does remember, though that fact doesn’t really help him feel any better about his current situation. All it does is to remind him how close he was to losing Omar, and how maybe the reason he did not lose Omar is because Omar pitied him.

He nods anyway. He should listen to what Samuel, an objective third party has said. In reality, what Samuel said isn’t much different from what Ander has been trying to tell himself. Hearing it from someone else should be helpful, and yet...

“But he didn’t tell _you _about me either…” Ander says, a thought popping into his head. “He kept me a secret from you and you’re his best friend.”

Samuel shakes his head, raising a hand to pat Ander on the shoulder. “He didn’t tell me because he wasn’t feeling comfortable being out yet. Once I found out, he told me about you, he talks about you all the time. You’re a frequent topic of conversation when we talk.”

Samuel is being reassuring, and what did Ander want when he came to him for advice but to be reassured?

Ander nods, though he’s still not convinced. “Lately, I feel…” he stops, he doesn’t know how to continue. Lately he feels insecure, clingy. He had been an ass to Omar for so long, he keeps feeling like Omar is going to turn around and be an ass right back to him. He’s waiting for it, dreading it, afraid of it happening.

He can’t tell Samuel that though. “I feel like… like he’s going to leave me.”

Samuel shakes his head. “Hey,” he says, heading toward the door. They’re not done with their conversation, but if they stay here any longer, they’re going to be late for their next class. “Let’s go out to dinner together tonight, the three of us. I’ll look for any signs that Omar is unhappy and then once I find nothing, we can put all your fears to rest.”

Ander follows him, agreeing to the dinner.

\--

Omar is reluctant to go out that night, afraid of what the cold could do to Ander’s health, and fussing over Ander on their way to the restaurant. “But are you sure you’re ok to go out tonight?” he asks as they’re getting ready, and “Shouldn’t you stay home and rest?”

His worry helps alleviate some of Ander’s fears. Ander thinks that all that fussing has to come from a place of concern.

When they get to the restaurant, instead of joining in the conversation, Ander tries to sit out and watch Omar’s behavior. He’s rarely seen Omar interacting with Samuel, even though he knows they’re very close friends. He wants to watch and see how Omar acts with someone he’s close to--someone who’s not Ander.

Omar and Samuel talk with the ease of two people who’ve known each other for a long time. At first, Ander finds it nice to sit next to Omar and listen. But as the night goes on, little things begin to bother Ander. For example, Omar’s attention is almost fully on Samuel tonight, he barely looks at Ander. Even his body language is off, he’s leaning more towards Samuel than Ander. Ander wants Omar to turn to him, to talk to him, to reach out for his hand under the table and grab it, but Omar does none of those things.

It sours Ander’s mood. His fears are suddenly front and center in his mind. He starts thinking that Omar is ignoring him on purpose, that Omar doesn’t think Ander is a good conversation partner, that Omar would rather be here with only Samuel. Ander begins feeling like his presence is not wanted. He looks down at his plate instead of at Samuel and Omar, trying to gather his troubled thoughts. Should he leave? Would Omar even notice if he left?

At some point, while Ander is having an internal break down, Samuel seems to see the discomfort on his face. He starts talking about _Las Encinas, _steering the conversation towards topics in which Ander can participate.

“You won’t believe what happened today,” Samuel says to Omar. “Ander and I were talking in the locker room, and we thought it was empty, completely empty. And then Valerio emerges from the other side of the locker room, dispensing opinions and giving us advice.” He nods to Ander, signalling for him to continue the conversation.

“Yeah,” Ander says, shaking himself out of his gloom. He’s not sure how much he can say about today’s conversation without giving away it’s content. “He just… gave me the weirdest advice about not filming people having sex. But the worst part was that he wasn’t wearing any clothes.”

Omar’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and his face cracks into a smile. “He wasn’t wearing anything?”

Ander shakes his head in answer, smiling because he’d made Omar smile. “Nope.”

“And after he gave you that piece of advice about not filming people,” Samuel adds. “He just went back to his locker, got dressed, and left.”

“It was very odd,” Ander agrees.

Omar laughs, a bright happy sound that seems to reach into Ander’s heart and lift all the weight from it. As Ander sits there, now part of the conversation, he thinks that Samuel was probably right, he was overthinking everything. Omar does seem to enjoy spending time with him. Ander’s fears were unfounded.

Perhaps if the night had ended then, if Ander and Omar had gone home ten minutes after Samuel told the Valerio story, Ander would have gotten over his fears and his jealousy. Unfortunately for Ander, the night doesn’t end there. Half an hour after they talk about the Valerio incident, Omar’s school friends show up at the restaurant.

It’s not all of the people Ander met yesterday. It’s the two boys. If it had been just the girls, or even the boys and the girls maybe Ander would have been fine.

He spots them first, and sits in his seat as they order at the counter hoping that they don’t turn around and see Omar. He’s out of luck though, because the boys spot Omar as soon as they’re given their food, yell out his name and then proceed to walk over.

“Long time no see,” the horrible one says as greeting, clapping Omar on the back. It’s a stupid phrase, it annoys the hell out of Ander, they saw Omar three hours ago.

“Fuck off,” Omar responds. “What are you doing here? Don’t you need money to eat out?”

The boy rolls his eyes. “I have money, excuse you.” he says and pulls over a chair and sits right next to Omar without even asking if he could join them. The other one sits besides Samuel.

Ander hates it, hates that they’ve joined without an invitation, hates that Omar didn’t say anything when they decided to sit down. Hates that Omar’s attention is now completely given over to the two boys.

The two of them get comfortable in their chairs while Ander tries not to glare and Samuel’s gaze shifts from one to the other. Finally, the one that hadn’t offended Ander very much asks, “Are you going to properly introduce us to your boyfriend this time?” He indicates Ander with his chin. “And this asshole.” He says, putting his hand on Samuel’s shoulder.

Samuel shrugs it off, eyes narrowed.

“Yeah,” Omar says. “So you guys met Ander,” Omar says. To Ander and Samuel he says, “This is Daniel,” pointing to the horrible one, “and that’s Sergio,” he points to the not horrible one sitting next to Samuel. “We go to school together.” Then, he indicates Sameul with his chin.  
“That’s Samuel, he’s my friend from the school that collapsed? He’s one of the people who got the scholarship to _Las Encinas.”_

“Fancy,” Daniel says, looking Samuel up and down. “Does he think he’s better than us, since he goes to the fancy school now?” He’s still looking at Samuel as he addresses Omar.

“He’s right here,” Samuel responds, voice thin. “And he definitely doesn’t, if you were wondering, since he has a delivery job he needs to go to in an hour.” Samuel looks over at Ander and mouths _asshole_.

It makes Ander chuckle, which makes both Daniel and Sergio look at him. “Ander, right?” Sergio asks.

Ander nods, frowning.

“Where do you go to school?”

“_Las Encinas.”_

Sergio whistles. “You get a scholarship too?”

Ander shakes his head. “No.”

“Rich kid, then,” Daniel says, he turns to Omar. “It’s not like you to date rich assholes who go to fancy schools. How did this happen?”

Omar frowns, opening his mouth. But then he closes it and bites his lip. He shrugs. “It was an accident.”

Ander sits there, wondering why Omar didn’t address the _rich asshole_ part of that question.

“How do you accidentally start dating someone?” Sergio asks.

“Well, you get on a gay hook up app, you see someone hot and message them, then turns out that someone is really into you, and then you’re in a relationship.” Omar looks over at Ander with a soft smile. Ander knows that he’s joking, the smile says it. But does Ander _really know that he’s joking? _He did kind of pursue Omar, again and again, even when Omar told him very clearly that the two of them starting a relationship would never happen. Maybe Omar is telling the truth, but masking it by making it look like a joke.

Ander doesn’t return Omar’s smile.

“Hmm,” Daniel says, redirecting Omar’s attention back to himself. “And then you find out they’re a rich asshole and it’s too late, you’re committed.”

He makes it sound like Omar is stuck in the relationship, which is exactly what Ander has been feeling these past two days. Ander hates this guy, hates that he keeps making assumptions about Omar’s feelings. He’s also sick and tired of this random dude calling him a rich asshole.

Maybe Ander can’t say anything in respect of Omar’s feelings, but he can defend himself against the rich asshole accusations.

“I’m not rich,” he says, at the same time as Omar says, “No I knew Ander went to _Las Encinas_ before I matched with him on the app.”

“Oh, ok,” Sergio says. “How--”

“If you’re not rich,” Daniel cuts off Sergio, his voice not at all friendly. He leans forward, looking at Ander. “Then how come you go to the rich people school?”

“Not that I owe you an explanation,” Ander begins, because this dude is ridiculously, cartoonishly, assholish. He’s managed to make Ander feel defensive with only a few words. Ander almost wants to hit him. Almost. “But my mother is the principal.”

“So the principal of the fancy school is not rich, I see.” This time, Daniel’s voice is mocking.

“Not really,” Ander responds.

“Yeah, right, like I believe you,” Daniel says. “Omar, I trust. You tell me, is this kid rich?”

Ander turns to Omar, ready and expecting his back up, but Omar is not meeting Ander’s gaze. He shrugs in response to Daniel’s question.

To Ander, it feels like a betrayal. “Omar?”

Omar looks at Ander, then quickly away. “You have like half of the second floor of your house to yourself,” Omar says looking down at the table. “There’s a sunroof in your bedroom.”

“You have a whole floor to yourself?” Sergio asks. He’s not actually mocking, just surprised. “Do you have siblings?”

Ander shakes his head. “Half the second floor.”

“Ok, half,” Daniel says. “So terrible.”

Ander ignores him, he turns back to Omar. “But I’m not like… we don’t have…”

“What don’t you have?” Omar asks. “Your mom hires a cleaner…”

“A pool?” Ander is starting to realize that he’s losing this argument. “You know what I mean,” he turns to Samuel. “Have you been to Carla’s house?”

Samuel shakes his head.

“So you’re saying you’re not as rich as other people who go to your school,” Daniel says. “Yeah that really helps your argument.”

Helplessly, Ander looks again at Omar.

Omar shrugs. “He’s got a point…”

_He’s got a point._ The horrible, handsome boy who’s been mocking Ander, and Omar’s relationship with Ander, ever since they met has a point. Ander feels those words hit him like a slap in the face. He stands up. He can’t sit there and be attacked, not by Omar.

“Ander…” Samuel begins and stands up as well.

Ander shakes his head, gesturing for him to sit down. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

As he heads toward the bathroom, he hears Daniel loudly ask, “Damn, how do you stand him?” It makes Ander want to turn around and defend himself, but he’s dangerously close to losing his temper, to yelling, as it is, and he keeps walking. When he reaches the bathroom door, he hears Samuel say, “Listen, man…”

Ander finds a stall and locks himself in, leaning his head against the stall’s wall and closing his eyes. His head hurts, his eyes hurt. He wants a drink. He definitely feels like crying.

Not only did Omar not defend him against his friend’s attacks, he joined in. He joined in to their attack of Ander after he told Daniel and Sergio that he had only started dating Ander by accident.

He hadn’t even called it _a good accident. _

Ander thinks that Omar is probably right, in a way. He hadn’t meant to date Ander, had been very clear about that for months, but the two of them had ended up in a relationship because Ander had wanted them to be in a relationship. They were together now because Ander had refused to take no for an answer. They were together because every time Omar had pushed him away last year, Ander had gone back.

He’d trapped Omar. Had chipped away at Omar’s will until Omar gave in and decided to date him.

And this is the truth Ander is starting to accept. Omar who seems to think Ander is just a rich boy with rich friends, who doesn’t tell people he has a boyfriend if he can avoid it, agreed to be in a relationship with Ander because Ander didn’t give him another option.

Omar had been ready to leave Ander just a couple of months ago, had been saving up for his own place, had gotten so sick of Ander and his selfish, horrible behavior, that he wanted to flee.

And again, Ander hadn’t let him.

Ander sits in the stall, feeling hot tears slowly make their way down his cheek and onto his neck. He hates the idea that Omar feels forced to stay with him, hates that the person he loves is tired of being with him, that maybe Omar never even wanted to be with him in the first place.

Ander _hates_ it, hates seeing how he forced himself and this relationship onto a person who kept telling Ander he wasn’t interested.

He hears the sound of the door, then footsteps, which stop in front of his stall.

There’s a gentle tapping on the stall door. “Ander?”

Ander wipes the remnants of tears on face with his sleeve.

“Are you ok?” Omar asks.

Ander stands and opens the door. He tries to keep his voice as level as possible and his face emotionless while he speaks. “No,” he says. “You were right, I shouldn’t have come out tonight. I’m feeling sick, I have a headache, my throat hurts, I’m going home.”

He shoulders his way past Omar, not glancing at Omar as he does so.

Omar grabs his wrist. “Hey…”

Ander wrenches it free. “Stay for as long as you want.” He makes his way out of the bathroom, walks past the table where Samuel is sitting with Daniel and Sergio, and doesn’t react at all when he hears Daniel saying “Rich kids, always throwing tantrums.”

He leaves the restaurant.

If he’s being honest with himself, despite his conviction that Omar never wanted to date him in the first place, what Ander wanted most in the world after leaving the restaurant was for Omar to follow him. But it’s at least an hour after Ander has gotten home that he hears the door open and close and Omar calling out for him. Instead of responding, Ander quickly lays down on his bed and closes his eyes.

Feigning sleep is hard when Omar comes upstairs and sits on the bed beside him. He places his hand on Ander’s shoulder, drags his nails softly down Ander’s arm. It makes Ander shudder and open his eyes, revealing that he’s awake.

“Hey.” The corners of Omar’s mouth are raised in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I keep waking you up when you’re asleep.”

Ander doesn’t say anything, just swallows.

“I missed you after you left,” Omar continues, hesitant.

_Liar_, Ander wants to say, but doesn’t. He nods, “Sorry, I guess.”

“Don’t be,” Omar says. “I should have just left with you.”

This time Ander can’t stop himself before he says, “but you didn’t.” His voice comes out harsher than he meant it to.

Omar flinches.

“Which means my absence couldn’t have been that bad, right?” Ander continues.

“What do you mean?” Omar asks, and the look on his face makes Ander nervous. His brows are knit together, his eyes narrowed. Both the corners of his mouth point downward now.

“It was probably better without me there, just you and your friends.” Ander sits up, turning away from Omar. “I wasn’t there anymore to ruin your night.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Omar stands and walks around the bed so that he can stand directly in front of Ander. “What is wrong with you tonight? You said you were feeling sick but that’s obviously not true. Why are you acting… like this?”

“Like what? I’m not acting like anything?” Ander doesn’t look at him, even though he’s standing in front of Ander now.

“Distant. Angry. You’re being short with me and refusing to talk about why,” Omar says. He pauses, then, “It’s almost like how it used to be, when you were hiding the Polo secret from me.”

The statement is shocking enough that it forces Ander into raising his gaze and looking at Omar. “What? No. I’m not keeping secrets from you!”

“Then what?” Omar raises his arms, fingers spread in frustration. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Ander responds.

“Bullshit.” Omar kneels down in front of Ander. “Don’t lie to me like you used to.”

Ander shakes his head, unsure how the conversation turned into this, how he lost the moral ground. How is it that now Ander feels obliged to defend himself? “I’m not… it’s nothing like that.” He realizes that if he wants to bring Omar away from those thoughts, he has to be honest about what’s really bothering him. But he’s not sure if he can be honest. Honesty means making himself vulnerable in a way that he has not been before. Ander doesn’t want to know that his fears about Omar are legitimate, he’s sure they are, but he doesn’t want to hear them confirmed by Omar.

Lying to Omar was hard before. Now, after he kept a huge secret from Omar for months, which led to him hurting Omar, Ander is not sure he _can_ lie. As much as he’s sure Omar doesn’t love him, he’s sure that _he loves Omar_, and doesn’t want to hurt him again. “You’ll think it’s stupid,” he says, deciding that the only road left to him is honesty. It will be difficult, but Ander will do it for Omar’s sake.

Omar rolls his eyes. “A lot of things you say are stupid.” There’s a small, crooked smile on his face and his voice contains traces of fondness. “Tell me.”

Ander closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and counts down from ten. He keeps his eyes closed as he talks. “You didn’t tell your school friends about me.” Ander opens his eyes. “They seemed to be pretty close to you, they weren’t surprised that you’re gay. But you didn’t tell them about _me._ You didn’t tell them you have a boyfriend.”

Omar doesn’t respond, the only tell that the sentence has affected him in any way is the small line on his forehead.

“Why didn’t you tell your high school friends about me?” Ander asks. “Because I told all my friends about you. I was so ready to, as soon as I thought we were together… and you didn’t tell anyone?”

Omar’s mouth opens, but no words come out.

“And there was that boy, Daniel, and yesterday when I brought you food he was such an asshole... and he said,” Ander stops, he needs a moment to gather himself, to make sure his voice isn’t wavering. “He said it was probably because I wasn’t important to you and you… instead of disagreeing you just kind of kicked me out of your school. And tonight...” Ander stops again. His breathing is shallow. He’s been talking faster and faster, words falling out of him without his control. “Tonight he just kept insulting me and insulting me and you just _sat there._ And ok, maybe they’re right and I didn’t realize that I’m more wealthy than some people, but that boy was straight up mocking me. _And you said nothing._”

Omar opens his mouth to talk but Ander holds up his hand to stop him. The words are coming out of him like a torrent now, he doesn’t think he can stop and let Omar talk, even if he wanted to.

“And I remembered how hard it was for me to get you to date me, how often you said no, how you kept telling me over and over again that we weren’t together, that we’d never be together, how I had to keep coming back to you _every time you pushed me away._ And two months ago you wanted to move out but you stayed only after I cried about my problems in front of you. Do you even want to be with me, Omar? Or are you here out of some sense of obligation?”

Omar swallows, opens his mouth again, but Ander beats him to it.

“You know what, don’t answer, I already know the answer, I figured it out tonight. It took me a really long time because apparently I’m really dumb, but I don’t want to hear it from you. I can’t hear it in fact, I can’t hear you say that I don’t matter.”

Ander stands up, intending to walk past Omar and leave the room, but Omar is faster than him. Before Ander has had a chance to take more than two steps, he grabs Ander’s bicep and turns him so that they’re facing each other. Then he grabs Ander’s face with both his hands, raises himself on his toes, and kisses Ander.

Surprised, Ander stands there, doing nothing. He doesn’t kiss Omar back, doesn’t even raise his hands to hold Omar, and after a moment, Omar pulls away. He moves his head back far enough so that they’re no longer kissing, but he’s close enough that his nose touches Ander’s.

“Kiss back,” Omar says to Ander’s lips.

“No.”

Omar leans forward and kisses Ander’s lip. A soft, lingering kiss. A request. “Ander…”

Ander closes his eyes, “I can’t.” He’s going to cry, he knows it, he feels the tears in his eyes already. He squeezes his eyelids together even tighter.

Omar must have seen the beginning of his tears because his hands leave Ander’s face, hook behind his neck and pulls him forward into a hug.

Ander tries to resist the hug, tries to remember that none of this means anything, that this comfort isn’t for him to take, but in the end the feeling of comfort Omar’s embrace brings him is so familiar, so desired, that he can’t. He drops his head on Omar’s shoulder as the tears begin falling out of his eyes freely.

Omar holds him, stroking his back, letting him cry. They stand there until Ander’s legs begin to hurt and he pulls away so he can sit down on the bed.

Omar allows him to go but kneels in front of him immediately after Ander has sat down. “Hey,” he says, because Ander is still not looking at him. His hands grab Ander’s face again and move it so that he has nowhere to look but at Omar. “I love you.” He says it easily, so easily that it makes Ander’s heart hurt. Ander closes his eyes.

“No, open your eyes,” Omar says. “Look at me, stop looking away. I want you to hear it again, because apparently you need to hear it again. I love you. You are the most important person in my life.”

Ander swallows as more tears fall from his eyes.

“I see where your feelings and your fears come from though, so I’m gonna say this, I should have said it earlier, but I thought you already knew. When I kept pushing you away last year, I thought it was obvious that it wasn’t because I wasn’t into you. I was really into you, so into you in fact that against my better judgment, I kept coming back every time you asked...”

Omar takes a deep breath, dropping his hands from Ander’s face, probably trusting that Ander won’t look away anymore.

“I was really into you, I was just in a shitty situation. I was trying to save us both the heartache by keeping you at a distance, but you wouldn’t have that. Every time I brought up my situation to you, all you said was that you wanted to be with me despite it all,” Omar smiles. “And you know the only reason I wanted to leave a few months ago was because I thought you wanted me to leave… I was tired of thinking you were tired of me. I was tired of thinking you didn’t want me. I thought you didn’t like me being here. I thought I was suffocating you.”

“Never,” Ander says with conviction.

“I know that now. I stayed because I never wanted to leave _you_, because _I love you_. Can you believe me?”

Ander wants to, so, so badly. He wants to believe Omar more than anything, but…

“What about your school friends? You didn’t tell the about me…”

Omar closes his eyes. “I didn’t even tell them I was gay, they just kind of guessed because I never said anything about being into girls. I wouldn’t have told them I was gay even, if they hadn’t found it out. I’m not that close to them Ander, I didn’t want them to know that much about me.”

“You seemed pretty friendly with them,” Ander says.

Omar shakes his head. “I’m friendly with lots of people, that doesn't mean I like them enough to tell them my life story.”

“And Daniel?” Ander asks because he still can’t get it out of his head how rude that boy was to him, how Omar didn’t say anything. “He touches you a lot and he was a dick to me…”

Omar’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Are you jealous?” He asks. “Of Daniel? How? He’s straight…”

Ander shrugs. “I didn’t know that. He was a dick to me for no reason at all... So I thought it might be because he was jealous. Was he just a dick to me for fun?”

“Yes,” Omar responds. “Look Sergio is pretty cool, and so are the girls that I was hanging out with yesterday. Daniel just comes along with them, they’re a package deal, you just have to tolerate him. He’s mad because he found out I’m dating someone and he can’t get a girl to even look at him. I’m sorry, I forgot that people that just meet him don’t know he likes to be an asshole.”

“Oh…” Ander says.

“Samu yelled at him after you left for being a dick to you,” Omar goes on. “Because Samu sees what I see, that despite the fact that you’re a rich kid, you’re a good person.”

Ander nods, not trusting himself to speak.

“I know that’s what you’re going to say next, that I didn’t defend you when Daniel started attacking you for being rich. Look, Ander, you are, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Ander nods again.

“So are we good?” Omar asks, he moves closer and rests his arms on Ander’s knee. “You’re not thinking I don’t love you or some idiotic thing like that?”

Ander shrugs, biting his lip to stop himself from smiling.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Omar says. “And you know that you have nothing to be jealous about, not with Daniel, not with anyone. Right?”

Ander nods. He does. Omar’s words have comforted him enough. 

“Good.”

This time when Omar leans in to kiss him, Ander kisses back.

**Author's Note:**

> Um.... I wrote a behemoth. I don't know how it happened, but I hope y'all enjoyed it.
> 
> While writing this fic, I found out that in 2002 the name Ander was 97th most popular in Spain for baby boys so... I guess y'all are welcome.  
\--  
reblog this fic on [tumblr](https://waroftheposes.tumblr.com/) or yell at me about Elite or something.


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